


Pull

by imorca



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, Coming of Age, F/M, First Love, Friendship, Memories, Relationship Advice, friendship for carol & carl, greemes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 11:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9721271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imorca/pseuds/imorca
Summary: As she helps Carl work through a first in this broken world, Carol discovers that there are still firsts to be found for her, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as a sequel to "The-Hardest." Written for thecaryldaily's Valentine's "Naughty/Nice" fic-a-thon. Prompt: Nice = "Firsts." Originally published on ff.net on May 5, 2014.
> 
> Disclaimer: Copyright for The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.

"I know I teased you about it, but now? I kind of miss it."

The corner of Carl's mouth turned up in a small smile that he tried to hide and he shifted to take the other half of the barrel's weight with her. His hair was as awful as Daryl's now and hid most of his facial expressions unless he was facing her straight on. The old sheriff's hat had been an obstacle, too, but different. Carl had usually worn it back a bit on his head given that it was too large for him and would easily slip around his ears.

"My dad says it's not a farming hat."

"I suppose it's not. Does Hershel say what a 'farming hat' should look like?"

They had wrangled the unwieldy blue container into the corner of the old basketball court to the place it would stay to hopefully gather the coming spring rains. Her comment pulled a scoff from him.

"Heh. Probably somethin' with a tractor logo on it!"

An old, half-lost memory stirred in the back of Carol's mind. "Did your dad ever take you to a tractor pull?"

"A what?"

"Tractor pull."

Carl held up one hand against the rising Georgia sun and she got a good look at his face as he squinted an eye at her in question. His features were lengthening out, streamlining and becoming handsome. He had his father's jaw and full lips, but she saw his mother in the way he shrugged his shoulders and smiled on those rare occasions when she caught him at it. Lori's son was a good three inches taller than when she had last seen him. Carol's chest tightened even as she thought it. Where Rick was bow-legged, Carl was a bit pigeon-toed yet, not quite having achieved the frame and musculature he was meant to have.

"You know, where they hook up weights behind them and compete to see which guy's machine can haul the heaviest load."

She wasn't quite sure what to call the expression that passed Carl's face. It was a mixture between confusion, amusement, and teen arrogance that she vaguely recalled from her high school friends so many years ago. She couldn't help breaking out a smile in response.

"Wh...um...I...why?"

"Ha! Ah! Now that you ask? I'm not sure!" Carol laughed and Carl kind of snuffled a little into his chest as he lowered his head and looked to his boots, scuffing the cement. She snaked an arm around his shoulder and pulled him gently toward her. "That's the last one. Sit with me a second and rest my old bones, and then I'll let you drive the truck to park it around back."

"Really?" Carl asked, his enthusiasm heartening as he looked up at her again. He wouldn't have to look up at her for much longer, she thought.

"Sure. You've been practicing with Glenn haven't you?"

Carl nodded and quirked the small half-smile again. Carol released her hold around his shoulders. She knew he wouldn't have let it go on much longer anyway. The allure of driving would keep him with her for a while, and she would be glad for the chance to talk. Since the entrance of the Woodbury survivors into the prison and Rick's decision to turn Carl and himself away from prison defense to provisioning, she didn't see the young man often.

When they reached the battered Ford half-ton, Carol patted the open tail gate, indicating for Carl to sit. He complied quickly, making a little jump up and settling himself. Still a little boy in some ways at least, she mused, stepping to the cab to reach in for the water bottles she'd stowed earlier. They had a motley collection of containers that served as their portable, potable water storage now – each boiled between uses, as was its contents, before setting up for being easily pulled to supply work crews or runs. The entirety of their original pantry was now turned over to drinkable water inventory.

Slamming the door – did it shut any other way? – she returned around the vehicle and eased herself up to sit beside Carl, handing him a slim green Nalgene with "Go Hornets!" wearing off the side. Hers was a dented burnished silver column patterned with jewel-toned balloons.

"Thanks."

They sipped their lukewarm drinks and idly watched as a group of five people dressed in what the old world would have described as kitchen garb left C-Block and headed out toward the far fences. Their aprons and rubber gloves, however, were accompanied by golf clubs, pipes, and other long-handled tools. Carol recognized Tyreese and Ryan Samuels in the group. The latter had arrived several weeks before with his two daughters.

Carl followed the group with his gaze and gestured toward them vaguely with his water bottle. "So, what do you think of the new people?"

"Like always, any new addition is an adjustment. Every person has things I like. Most of the time you don't know about the things you don't like until something bad happens. People try to hide that, you know?"

"Yeah. So, that Ryan guy seems nice."

Carol turned slightly toward Carl as she took another sip and wiped her forehead. That was a surprise. Ryan's two daughters had lost their mother on the road almost immediately before Rick and Daryl had found them, and were hurting badly when the three were brought in with their group of seven. She had gravitated toward them even as she wanted to stay far away, their reminiscence of Sophia hard to ignore.

"As far as I can tell, he is. He's trying very hard to help his girls. They miss their mom a lot."

"Huh. What does Daryl think of him?"

"Daryl? Oh, uh, well...I'm not sure. I haven't really asked him. Daryl and your Dad were the ones that brought their group in. I know they wouldn't have allowed it if he wasn't a man to be trusted."

"Questions and all, right. And does he mind that you're spendin' all your time with that guy now?" Carl's tone had gone suddenly tense and there was an edge of anger behind the question.

Carol set her water on the metal ledge beside her and turned to her companion, her eyebrows pulling together. She was confused at the question. Why was he asking? What was he asking? And more than that, where was the anger – that frightening pool of darkness that Rick and Hershel believed was dissipating – bubbling up from?

She thought carefully before replying. Carl was watching the crew begin their work at the fence. "I've been eating lunch with their family, trying to get to know Lizzie and Mika. That's Ryan's daughters. Daryl has joined us a couple times, when he's back from scouting."

Carl sucked in his bottom lip and chewed, then took another drink and swallowed. "Yeah. He's gone a lot." Turning, he looked her in the eye, cocking his head in the same manner his father did when he wanted to ask a hard question. "Does he know about you going to their cell at night?"

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she couldn't hold back a smile. "No. I don't think so. I've been reading _Peter Pan_ to the girls for a bedtime story. I was shocked to find it in the library. I think I might start a story time for all the kids." Carol leaned over and jostled Carl on the shoulder. "Think you'd like to come, lost boy?"

His expression softened a little and he broke eye contact, but it didn't seem like whatever it was that was behind this interrogation was quite over.

"Carl," she said quietly, staying close after her nudge, "you know, if you want to ask me something or talk about anything it's fine. I told you once that I'd always try to tell you the truth. All you had to do was keep two promises. That still stands if you remember them." She watched him covertly.

He didn't say anything for a while, seeming to consider her words carefully. Finally, "It stays private and it can't be used to hurt anyone."

"That's right. Are you worried about me...and Daryl?" She let a little of her doubt creep into her voice.

Carl sucked in a breath and huffed it out. He shrugged. "Yeah, kinda. Well, I mean. I...It's – things change. And when you don't see people you might forget them. Or – or they might forget...you."

Carol turned her thoughts to the changing dynamics of their community. There were now more children at the prison, even a few Carl's age. Yet, given Carl's experience in this life few children Carl's age were truly Carl's "age."

She nodded. "We lose so many people. It's just days sometimes and then they are gone again." Carol felt tears trying to clog her throat. "It's a little hard to let new people in, sometimes. Is that it?"

Carl's response was immediate and harsh, startling her. " _No_! We let people in too damn fast! I mean, have you _seen_ them!? He's been here what? Like a day?"

She scanned faces in her mind to seek out a reference for Carl's anger. "Who, Carl?"

"Zach! And his stupid fucking car! He just pulled her in!"

Of course! The handsome Zach was a new addition, around twenty she supposed, and had quickly struck up a quite public romance with Beth Greene. She had known Beth and Carl were good friends and that Carl likely sported a crush. Zach also brought with him a well-tuned ride that had kept him ahead of most trouble, living and dead alike.

"Ah."

"Ah. Ah!?" Carl's tone mocked her back.

"Does Beth...know?"

As quickly as his anger had spiked Carl seemed to deflate. He hung his head between his sagging shoulders. "I thought she did. I – I thought maybe...I guess, I thought...we were friends and I thought she might..." He let the sentence die out and what she could see of his face settled into misery.

Carol waited quietly. Talking over his feelings was about the worst thing she could do. She listened to him breathe. She handed him the rest of her water, trading for his empty. Carl took it and sipped.

"I never felt like that before, you know? I mean, I liked girls and stuff." He looked up and her and that half-smile appeared before he ducked his head. "I thought Sophia was cute," he said, his voice tinged with sadness.

Carol looked over at him and her heart swelled. For the first time since...since she had seen Sophia _alive_ she felt warmth and wonder at a _new_ experience about her daughter. Sophia had always felt so shy and self-conscious around boys. She had liked Carl because he treated her "like a person" she had said, "not like a girl."

Sophia had never been one to fill her room with pictures of singers or that boy from Harry Potter. Carol had felt relieved that her daughter had been satisfied holding on to her childhood, being more interested in animals and her dance classes. That last year before the fall she had been asking about taking tae kwan do lessons, and Carol had wondered if there might be a boy that had inspired her turn to more rough and tumble pursuits. When Carol asked, her sweet, blonde daughter had wrinkled her nose and said "Ew! No!" and blushed prettily. Carol remembered laughing with her on the front steps as they ate popcicles, Sophia's grape and Carol's lime. When Sophia had stood to take her empty stick back in the house, Carol had looked up at her child's graceful lines and thought that she'd just been bluffed by Sophia for the first and probably not the last time. As the screen door slapped shut behind her, Carol was glad that the thing Sophia wanted to do for the sake of a boy...was to learn self-defense.

"Carl," she rasped, her voice choked on unshed tears of happiness, "did you have a crush on Sophia?"

When he looked up at her his cheeks were the slightest bit pink. "Yeah, sorta."

She reached over, then, and hugged him full on, and several hot tears escaped. "Thank you, Carl. She thought you were a special friend, too." She felt his arms snake around her.

It was something she thought she would never have again: a new experience with her daughter. Yet, miraculously, though that life seemed as though it was never hers to begin with some days, she had been allowed this moment. Her daughter had been the subject of a boy's first tender feelings of something beyond friendship. That precious gift had been hers in the short time Sophia had been given. Her daughter's love, the promise of sexuality that never bloomed, was subject to something better, something more pure, more decent, more wonderous than her father's brutalized face leering from their tent the night he met his end.

Her heart swelled more. In that moment she remembered how it felt when Sophia was growing beneath her heart, feeding from Carol's own body, the trepidation and then the amazement at her discovery of so many parts of the world as she learned with her eyes and her hands, as she crawled and walked and climbed and rode. Carol felt Sophia closer than she had in so long that she thought it might sprain her heart muscle from the strain.

"I really did want to be the one to find her."

"I know, lost boy. I know. She would have liked that, I think." She realized she was holding him so close it might be hard to breath, and she laughed a little as she loosened her hold. "Oh, s-sorry. I, uh, I just – hmmm, I never thought that I'd get to learn something new about my daughter ever again, Carl. That's...gosh, it's...I - I'll treasure it."

"Yeah."

But even as much as it meant to her, she knew that Carl was facing something different – a whole other set of feelings that his crush on Sophia didn't prepare him for. She pulled back and pushed his hair out of his eyes before letting him go and wiping her own face quickly.

"But...that's not nearly how you feel for Beth, is it," she said.

Carl looked off toward the fences again and shook his head. "I – It's so much...bigger. Harder."

"Oh, yes. You are so right."

"She had a boyfriend before. Jimmy."

"She did. I remember."

"I've never." He shook his head and avoided her eyes. "What would I even know? I mean, who am I ever gonna...?" His words trailed off. He looked to the sky, then finally to her. "Why would I even? It's stupid." He shook his head again and stared down at his water like it was a beer in some old made for television movie.

"No, Carl. It's not." She reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder. She wanted to be sure she had his attention. "Beth may be ready for Zach and not for you. But your heart has the right idea. Finding people to care about? That's really the only thing that makes it possible to see this world as worth living in."

She stopped for a moment, thinking. Leaning in, she said softly, "Daryl doesn't need to worry if I have lunch with Ryan or if I go to his cell at night. Daryl was the first one that _I_ figured that out about."

Carl had finished the second bottle of water, and was spinning it empty in his hands as he watched his swinging feet. He nodded in response to her confidence, and she could see his smile past the curtain of his hair.

"Your hair is as bad as Daryl's, you know that!?" She made a feeble attempt to swipe it behind the ear closest to her.

He swatted her hand away. "What? You can't complain about my hat so now it's my hair?" he teased her back and brought his smile around to meet her eyes. "Hey! Are you blushing again?"

Carol hadn't been, but as soon as he said it, she could feel the heat start to creep up her neck. "Me! What would I have to blush about?"

"Pfft! You know!" If it was possible his grin spread wider.

It was a decidedly deeper voice that answered before Carol could, prompting both she and Carl to turn. "Thought you two was s'posed to be out here working hard. Looks like hardly workin' ta me."

Daryl had approached from the front of the vehicle and stopped, leaning against the passenger door and giving the two a chin tip.

"Daryl! You're back early," Carl said as he launched himself off the tail gate and fairly bounced around the back end to greet the hunter.

Carol ducked her head and smiled to herself as the two exchanged greetings. It was always good to see him back early. It usually meant a smooth run, and typically no new faces. She collected the water bottles, eased herself to the ground and raised the gate, giving it a shove to latch it in place. She fished in her pocket for the keys and dangled them before her, allowing them to create a little magic music that she hoped would enchant Carl to their final chore together.

Daryl noticed the enticement and met her gaze, looking quickly to Carl and back to her, giving her a half squint, half-wink that meant he'd caught her plan.

"So, you gon' drive this wreck to the back?" Daryl said, nodding to Carol.

Carl turned to her and grabbed the keys, letting out a whooping "hell yeah!" as he sped around the front of the pickup to the driver's side.

"Welcome back, stranger. You don't look any worse for wear...this time. Tired?"

"Naw." Daryl rolled his neck and shoulders. "Got lucky." He made a scan of the yard, and she could see as his eyes noted each of the newly placed barrels. "Looks good."

Behind them the door creaked and slammed closed again.

"Thanks." She couldn't help the smile she had for him. He noticed. Then pretended not to.

He met her eyes again and a flash of concern showed briefly. He turned to look across the hood of the Ford as Carl turned over the motor. He bit his cheek. Then, "Y'okay? Looks like ya mighta been...upset? Carl bein' a pain in the ass?"

"Nope. Not this time. He gave me a pretty special gift, actually." She felt the swelling in her heart again, and she let the joy spill out her eyes. It was alright. This was Daryl. "About...Sophia."

His eyes riveted to her and he held her gaze. He watched her for a bit, seeking to read what he could from her. Satisfied that she was, indeed, not hurting, he said, "S'good, then." And nodded.

"The best." She nodded back.

Daryl smiled the tiny smile that was just for her and turned toward the truck. As he did, the edge of his fingers brushed the edge of hers, pulled them in for the briefest moment, and passed on.


End file.
